A/N: Thanks for reviewing! You guys are so nice :D
Arnold looked at his clock on the shelf next to his bed, 21:11. He groaned, rubbing tired eyes that stung from sleep deprivation. He hadn't slept for two days, and everything he had been through the previous night had been enough action to last a lifetime in his opinion. But the problem still remained; he couldn't sleep.
"Oh that's it!" he said angrily to himself, slamming fists down on his bed on either side of him. "I need some air." he concluded.
Sitting up, he pulled back the covers and got out of bed, putting on his slippers. Walking over to the corner of his darkened room, he carefully climbed the inbuilt steps and opened the window of his skylight. Cool night air greeted him as he pushed open the glass pane and stepped out into the darkness.
There was enough light from the streetlamps below to see where he was. For a moment, he toyed with the idea of climbing down the fire escape and walking the streets, but then, he is in his pyjamas, and he is 9 years old! He may be a 'bold kid' as Gerald had pointed out so many times, and he was certainly inclined to believe it after saving the entire neighbourhood! But still, wandering the streets alone after 9pm probably wasn't the smartest thing to do. Anyway, he had all the night he needed on his own rooftop. Why ask for more?
He lent silently on the waste-high cold brick wall that framed the roof, ignoring a slight chill that passed through him, enjoying the fresh evening air on his face.
Looking out on the street below, he shook his head with amused despair at the results of the boarder's best efforts to stop the bulldozers. They had cased more damage than Scheck had! "Oh well," he sighed. "I guess you can't go through all of that and expect everything to end up exactly as it had been before..." he thought. Then he stopped to re-think what he had just said to himself. One word suddenly popped up in his mind. Helga...
Helga G. Pataki. Helga the 9-year-old bully. Helga, 'Madam Fortress Mummy' as Harold would say. Helga, the mean and uncaring tormenter; his personal tormenter it would seem. Helga the enigma? Helga as 'Deep Voice'. Helga, the girl who hated him. Helga... the girl who loved him. Oh no! Not again! He frowned in frustration. What's wrong with me?!
'You're afraid' came a little voice at the back of his mind. Afraid? Afraid of what?
'The truth' it said simply. 'You knew it all along, but you're only 9, so it's not something that should matter yet. But it matters to her, doesn't it?' Arnold shut his eyes tightly, desperately wanting to stop this. But he couldn't. 'Innocence can't last forever'.
He felt as though he was hearing one half of a conversation in a language he didn't really understand. But it wasn't a language. Not really.
'You felt it; you know you did. Wrong and right at the same time.' What? Now he was just getting confused. 'And you read from a script as the sun rose. She read from the same script. But one day, there won't be a script to stop you, and you won't want a script to stop you.'
I don't understand! 'You're not meant to yet, but you will... soon. Be patient and you will. She's made the first move for you, and in time, you'll take you're turn.'
Arnold lifted a hand to his forehead. He really didn't understand what he was feeling. Was it fear? Hmm. But the wind was playing with him, and he felt very tired now.
He climbed back into his room, locking the glass panel down behind him. Kicking off his slippers, he curled up under the blankets as before, but now, something felt resolved in his mind. He wasn't really sure what it was, but he knew he didn't need to know. Not yet anyway.
And now he was soaring through the sky, weaving over and under fluffy white clouds in a background of beautiful blue. For a moment, just a moment, he could have sworn he saw something pink on the horizon. But he didn't mind, it was supposed to be there. It had always been there, and he had always been flying towards it. It was closer than it had been, but still, he wouldn't reach it yet. Not yet.
Arnold looked at his clock on the shelf next to his bed, 21:11. He groaned, rubbing tired eyes that stung from sleep deprivation. He hadn't slept for two days, and everything he had been through the previous night had been enough action to last a lifetime in his opinion. But the problem still remained; he couldn't sleep.
"Oh that's it!" he said angrily to himself, slamming fists down on his bed on either side of him. "I need some air." he concluded.
Sitting up, he pulled back the covers and got out of bed, putting on his slippers. Walking over to the corner of his darkened room, he carefully climbed the inbuilt steps and opened the window of his skylight. Cool night air greeted him as he pushed open the glass pane and stepped out into the darkness.
There was enough light from the streetlamps below to see where he was. For a moment, he toyed with the idea of climbing down the fire escape and walking the streets, but then, he is in his pyjamas, and he is 9 years old! He may be a 'bold kid' as Gerald had pointed out so many times, and he was certainly inclined to believe it after saving the entire neighbourhood! But still, wandering the streets alone after 9pm probably wasn't the smartest thing to do. Anyway, he had all the night he needed on his own rooftop. Why ask for more?
He lent silently on the waste-high cold brick wall that framed the roof, ignoring a slight chill that passed through him, enjoying the fresh evening air on his face.
Looking out on the street below, he shook his head with amused despair at the results of the boarder's best efforts to stop the bulldozers. They had cased more damage than Scheck had! "Oh well," he sighed. "I guess you can't go through all of that and expect everything to end up exactly as it had been before..." he thought. Then he stopped to re-think what he had just said to himself. One word suddenly popped up in his mind. Helga...
Helga G. Pataki. Helga the 9-year-old bully. Helga, 'Madam Fortress Mummy' as Harold would say. Helga, the mean and uncaring tormenter; his personal tormenter it would seem. Helga the enigma? Helga as 'Deep Voice'. Helga, the girl who hated him. Helga... the girl who loved him. Oh no! Not again! He frowned in frustration. What's wrong with me?!
'You're afraid' came a little voice at the back of his mind. Afraid? Afraid of what?
'The truth' it said simply. 'You knew it all along, but you're only 9, so it's not something that should matter yet. But it matters to her, doesn't it?' Arnold shut his eyes tightly, desperately wanting to stop this. But he couldn't. 'Innocence can't last forever'.
He felt as though he was hearing one half of a conversation in a language he didn't really understand. But it wasn't a language. Not really.
'You felt it; you know you did. Wrong and right at the same time.' What? Now he was just getting confused. 'And you read from a script as the sun rose. She read from the same script. But one day, there won't be a script to stop you, and you won't want a script to stop you.'
I don't understand! 'You're not meant to yet, but you will... soon. Be patient and you will. She's made the first move for you, and in time, you'll take you're turn.'
Arnold lifted a hand to his forehead. He really didn't understand what he was feeling. Was it fear? Hmm. But the wind was playing with him, and he felt very tired now.
He climbed back into his room, locking the glass panel down behind him. Kicking off his slippers, he curled up under the blankets as before, but now, something felt resolved in his mind. He wasn't really sure what it was, but he knew he didn't need to know. Not yet anyway.
And now he was soaring through the sky, weaving over and under fluffy white clouds in a background of beautiful blue. For a moment, just a moment, he could have sworn he saw something pink on the horizon. But he didn't mind, it was supposed to be there. It had always been there, and he had always been flying towards it. It was closer than it had been, but still, he wouldn't reach it yet. Not yet.